The crisis was over. The adrenaline had faded, leaving Red with a spiritual migraine.
He floated in the Void, dimming the brightness of the user interface. And conjured a spectral pillow.
"System," Red groaned. "Sleep Mode. Wake me up if there is a aler—"
Buzz.
The obsidian slab vibrated against his hip.
Red stared at it. He let it ring. It buzzed again. And again.
With a growl of frustration, Red snatched the tablet and jammed the [ ACCEPT ] button.
"What?" Red snapped.
The Rotting Druid's leafy avatar appeared on the screen. The branch-hands were folded in a gesture of mock applause.
"Oh?" The Druid's raspy voice crackled. "You picked up on the first try? I see you've learned some manners, Neighbor."
"Where I come from," Red muttered, rubbing his eyes, "strangers send a text before calling. It's called etiquette."
The Druid paused. The single leaf on his head twitched.
"'Text'," the Druid repeated slowly. "'Etiquette'. There it is. You finally stopped pretending."
